


Stronger Now

by AgtSpooky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-24
Updated: 2006-09-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8702134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgtSpooky/pseuds/AgtSpooky
Summary: Who or what is killing children in Kingsburg? Sam and Dean investigate the deaths and race to stop another from happening. Along the way, Dean shows how far he'll go to protect his brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title** : Stronger Now  
**Author** : agt_spooky  
**Pairing** : Sam/Dean  
**Rating** : NC-17  
**Spoilers** : General season 1  
**Warnings** : Wincest  
**Word Count** : 20,155 (total story)  
**Disclaimer** : I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!  
**Summary** : Who or what is killing children in Kingsburg? Sam and Dean investigate the deaths and race to stop another from happening. Along the way, Dean shows how far he’ll go to protect his brother.  
  
Huge thanks to my best buddy, [ ](http://charityflint.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://charityflint.livejournal.com/)**charityflint** , for her incredible beta work on this. You're awesome!  
  
**Author's Notes** : Story is complete and is being posted in three parts. There is a link to the second part at the end of this one.

 

**Stronger Now**  
by AgtSpooky  
  
 

Dean Winchester sat unmoving in the hard, straight-backed wooden chair in the motel room he shared with his younger brother. His posture was rigid, tension evident in every plane of his body. Tension, and simmering anger. His normally bright, hazel-green eyes were flat and hard as he stared at the papers under his fingertips.

Obituaries. Three of them. Instances of grave robbery. Three of those as well. Autopsy reports. Another trio.

That’s why they were here, amongst the Appalachian mountains, in Kingsburg, West Virginia. Taken separately, three deaths and three grave robberies in six surrounding towns didn’t add up to anything. Unless your last name was Winchester and your family business was the supernatural. When your whole life, and your brother’s, was spent looking for patterns, making connections that no one else did. And they had found one here.

Dean’s hand moved over the obituaries, finger tracing each face. Each small, smiling face. Children, all of them. Two boys and one girl. Ages seven, nine and ten. Their life over before it had a chance to really begin.

Dean’s jaw clenched, the muscle jumping and he forced his gaze to the grave robbing articles. Three bodies, unearthed in the middle of the night, none recovered. The men had been homeless, had no family, had been buried by the state. The articles were small, barely a blurb in the local papers. No one was looking very hard for the bodies, or seemed to care they were gone.

The copies of the autopsy reports were next, brought back to the motel just a short while ago by his brother, who had posed as a state trooper to get them. 

Dean flipped open the first folder, scanning the medical examiner’s findings, looking for the reported cause of death. Seeking confirmation. He wasn’t disappointed. With a barely audible sigh he turned to the next page…and closed his eyes briefly at the photo of the small, pale body, and the symbol carved on his tiny chest.

The police were baffled. The Winchesters weren’t.

Dean closed the folder, placing it atop the other two, knowing without looking that those reports would be identical. He sat still for a moment, looking down at the table. Kids. Why did it have to be children? Well, they knew why, at least in this particular case, but it didn’t make it any easier. Especially for Dean, who sometimes connected much more easily with children than adults. Like Lucas, and Michael.

So to be faced with the needless deaths of three children…it was sure to take its toll on the older Winchester. Especially if they couldn’t stop the monsters responsible. Dean straightened, turning toward the young man seated on the edge of the bed. 

Sam Winchester looked at his brother with sad eyes. "We were right."

"Yeah," Dean replied, voice rough. "Give us a gold star." He sighed. "Necromancy. Jesus."

"I know," Sam answered. "But it’s all right there. The missing bodies, the kids were all exsanguinated, the symbol on their chests…it all adds up. They’re trying to reanimate the dead, and they need the blood from young, healthy children to do it."

Sam stood and crossed the room to his brother. He laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. "We’ll stop them, Dean."

Dean’s response was hard, forceful. "Damn right we will. This ends now."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

The brothers hadn’t picked Kingsburg as their base of operations randomly. It was Dean who had first found the grave robbery articles, then digging deeper via the internet, had found the obituaries of the three children. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

But it was Sam, after looking at his brother’s research that evening in Pennsylvania, that had been struck with one of his premonitions the next morning. The vision had led them here, to the northern part of West Virginia, to a town in the middle of the six other towns where the grave robberies and deaths had occurred.

The thing, human or otherwise, that was committing these horrible atrocities was here, somewhere in Kingsburg. The town itself wasn’t overly large, but was ringed by dense woods with deep caves. It, or they, could be hiding anywhere.

Just when the brothers had reached the height of their frustration, having had no luck uncovering the identity or whereabouts of the thing or persons responsible, Sam’s psychic power had once again come into play; a vision of men in robes, a bearded man, and a cabin in the woods with enough landmarks to point them in the right direction.

Which is where they were headed now, the Impala bouncing along a rutted dirt road, in the deepest, darkest part of night, both men hoping to stop this before another child lost their life.

The interior of the car was quiet, Dean concentrating on navigating the barely existent dirt road and Sam was staring out the window into the inky blackness, lost in thought. Two shotguns lay on the seat between the brothers, loaded with rock salt shells. Sam had seen five men in his vision. But were they human? Possessed? Dean’s chrome plated .45 lay nestled snug in the back waistband of his jeans. He was taking no chances, either way.

The road abruptly ended and Dean braked the car to a halt. He looked over at Sam. "End of the line. Let’s go."

Sam nodded and both men exited the car, each grabbing a shotgun. The younger Winchester pulled a backpack out of the backseat, filled with other supplies they might need, while the older man retrieved a pair of flashlights from the trunk. Sam swung the backpack onto his shoulders and accepted a flashlight from Dean. Twin beams lit up the darkness a minute later.

Dean glanced around. "We in the right spot?"

Sam took a minute to orient himself, looking for the landmarks from his vision, flashlight sweeping around. He nodded his head shortly. "Yeah, this is it. This way," he gestured with the flashlight beam, heading off into the woods.

The moon glowed brightly overhead in the cloudless, star-filled sky. The late summer night air was cool and the sound of crickets followed the young men as they made their way as silently as possible through the trees and underbrush.

Dean trailed behind Sam, trusting his brother, and his vision, to get them to the cabin. And twenty minutes later Sam reached out a hand, coming to a stop and turning off his flashlight.

"We’re almost there."

Dean nodded and switched off his light as well, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. The moonlight filtering through the trees would provide enough illumination to guide them the rest of the way.

The brothers crept forward toward the edge of the tree line they could see ahead of them. Crouching down behind two trees, they looked across the small clearing, spying the rundown cabin standing dark and quiet.

Dean turned his head toward Sam, whispering, "Nice job, little brother."

Sam merely nodded, eyes fixed on the cabin, voice low. "Looks like nobody’s here yet."

"Good," Dean replied, standing. "We need to do some recon, find out exactly what we’re up against." He started moving toward the cabin. "C’mon."

They hurried across the clearing, shotguns up and at the ready. Once at the cabin they peered in the grimy windows, detecting no movement or light inside, so they moved to the door. It swung open at Dean’s touch, and the older Winchester pulled his flashlight out and switched it on.

He moved cautiously inside, followed by his brother. He heard Sam push the door closed, then another flashlight beam joined his own. They swept their lights around the interior, which appeared to be one main room with a smaller one off to the left, and Dean was struck with a strong sense of déjà vu. They were back in Richardson, in the Hell House, but with one significant difference. This was no prank. These people were serious.

Symbols painted in blood red decorated the walls and black candles sat in the window sills and on every available surface. There was an altar erected against the far wall and the tables in the room were filled with books on the dark arts, and an assortment of satanic paraphernalia.

Sam and Dean moved toward the table nearest them, wanting to get a closer look at the items that were laid out.

"This is some serious shit, Sam," Dean said, his voice tight as he opened one of the books. 

"You got that right," Sam agreed, as he swung his light toward the end of the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught a sudden and brief flash of light. "What was that?"

"I don’t know," Sam answered. "Something reflected off the flashlight beam." He turned his wrist back, and there, at the far end of the table was a large glass sphere, sitting on a gold base.

"What is that?" Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head and walked over to it, laying his shotgun on the table. Dean watched as Sam shined his light around it, then reached out and touched his fingertips to it. "Huh," he muttered, then laid his whole hand over the top of the glass ball. His eyebrows knitted together and he gestured to Dean. "C’mere."

Dean joined his brother at the end of the table, placing his gun beside Sam’s. "What is it?"

Sam took his hand off the sphere. "Feel that," he told Dean. "Solid glass like that shouldn’t be so warm, especially out here at night. It should be cool to the touch. And I could feel a…vibration, almost."

Dean placed his hand on the side of the sphere as Sam was talking, then nodded as his brother finished. "You’re right about it being warm. That’s weird. But I’m not feeling any vibration."

"Really?" Sam reached his hand out again as Dean continued to touch the glass. "I could swear I—"

Sam never got to finish his sentence, for the moment his fingers made contact with the sphere, a bright blue flash of light enveloped the brothers.

It was over in the blink of an eye, but in that one, brief moment, Dean could have sworn he was outside his body, standing across from himself, looking back at himself. But it was so fast, Dean would soon wonder if it happened at all.

When the light vanished, the young men were still standing across from one another, but their hands were down at their sides. Sam stood there, blinking at Dean, and Dean opened his mouth to speak, but a noise outside interrupted him.

Both Winchesters quickly shut off their flashlights, grabbed their shotguns and crouched down. They crawled over to the window and Sam peered outside.

"See anything?" Dean questioned.

"No." Sam shook his head. "Could’ve been an animal. But we’d better get out of here anyway."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, looking back into the dark room. "We’ve seen enough."

A minute later and they were back across the clearing, at the edge of the trees. They settled themselves against the base of a particularly large oak, prepared to wait as long as it took for the men to arrive at the cabin.

Tense and on edge, itching for a confrontation, Sam and Dean conversed in low tones at first, discussing possible strategies for taking down these men. These monsters.

But as the hours ticked by they grew silent, and Dean felt a throbbing begin behind his eyes that grew slowly worse. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rough bark of the tree, his fingers rubbing at his temple.

"You okay?" came Sam’s quiet voice.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Just a headache."

But an hour later, as dawn was beginning to break and it was apparent the men were not going to show, Dean was more than ready to go. His headache was significantly worse now and all he wanted was some aspirin and a bed.

They made their way back to the Impala, muscles stiff from sitting so long in the cool night air. The shotguns, flashlights and backpack went into the trunk and then they were driving to their motel in the early morning light.

"I don’t understand," Sam started, shifting on the passenger seat to face Dean. "My vision…they were there, at the cabin. Why didn’t they show up?"

"I don’t know," Dean replied, absently rubbing his forehead with one hand. He glanced at his brother. "This whole…Shining thing, is still new, Sam. Maybe it’s changing or something, and what you saw wasn’t tonight. Maybe it’s gonna happen tomorrow night, or next week."

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. "Or maybe that noise we heard wasn’t an animal."

"You think we were spotted? Scared them off?"

Sam shrugged. "It’s possible."

Dean blew out a frustrated breath. "Well I hope to hell that’s not the case, or we may never find them."

The discussion was put on hold as Dean pulled up in front of their room and the brothers wearily climbed from the car, eager to get some sleep.

Dean closed the door behind him and Sam as the younger man pulled the curtains together, blocking out the rising sun. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands.

"Still got your headache?" He heard Sam ask, and he grunted an affirmative.

"Why don’t you go get cleaned up first," Sam offered, "Then get some sleep."

Dean sighed and lifted his head, nodding at his brother. He pushed up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, wincing at the bright light when he flipped the switch. He dug around in his toiletry bag, finally finding the bottle of aspirin. He swallowed two of them dry, then turned on the tap and splashed cool water on his face.

He made quick work of brushing his teeth, stripped down to his boxers, then was back out in the main room, dropping his boots by the bed and tossing his clothes in the general vicinity of his duffle. Sam passed him on the way to the bathroom as Dean pulled back the blankets on his bed. He was asleep before Sam came out.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Sam walked through the darkened apartment, calling out, "Jess? You home?"

He stopped in front of the table, seeing the cookies and the note. Smiling, he picked up one and bit into it, walking toward their bedroom. He saw the bathroom door open, heard the shower running.

He sat down on the bed, closing his eyes with a contented sigh as he leaned backwards. He flinched at the first sensation of something landing on his forehead, then again at the second, before finally opening his eyes.

Shock and horror tore through him at the sight of her, pinned to the ceiling, bleeding, eyes and mouth wide open, staring down at him.

Then the flames engulfed her body…

"Noo—"

 

 

"—oo! Jess!"

Dean woke screaming, disoriented, heart pounding. He was barely aware of Sam jumping from his own bed, taking hold of Dean’s bare shoulders.

He clutched at Sam’s shirt, still caught within the nightmare’s grasp. "It’s my fault! I’m sorry! Jess, I’m sorry!"

Dean dropped his head forward, into the crook of Sam’s shoulder, muttering brokenly over and over, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry…"

To Dean’s sleep-fogged mind, it could have been ten seconds or ten minutes later before Sam’s voice finally broke through.

"—ean? Wake up now, okay? C’mon, you gotta wake up."

Dean lifted his head and blinked blearily at his younger brother, who was staring back at him with the oddest expression. Dean’s head felt thick and fuzzy.

"Sam? Wha—"

Sam sighed and shook his head. His hands squeezed Dean’s shoulders briefly. "It’s okay, Dean. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep, all right?"

Sam’s hands dropped from his shoulders and Dean immediately missed their warmth on his skin. He nodded, sleep already rushing back to claim him as he lay back against the pillows, never really having fully woken up. He reached out, loosely circling Sam’s wrist with his fingers.

"Don’t go," he breathed, and as his eyes slid closed he heard, "I won’t."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

It was many hours later before Dean stirred, feeling for all the world like road kill. His headache hadn’t dissipated overnight and he felt like he hadn’t slept at all, as tired as he still was. He cracked open an eye and saw the outline of sunshine around the edges of the closed curtains. He had slept well into the day. With a barely stifled groan he levered himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Morning."

Dean turned his head to see Sam sitting at the small table, laptop open in front of him, a cup of coffee in his hand. He was showered and dressed, and it appeared he’d been awake for quite some time, but looked well-rested.

"You look like hell," Sam commented. 

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Dean shot back sarcastically as he ran a hand through his spiky, sleep-mussed hair.

Sam ignored the barb. "Need some aspirin?"

"Yeah," Dean cleared his dry throat. "Thanks."

Sam nodded, put down his coffee and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged a minute later with a glass of water and two aspirin. He handed the items off to Dean then sat down on the opposite bed.

Dean gratefully swallowed the white pills and the water felt wonderful as it slid down his throat. He placed the empty glass on the bedside table and found Sam staring at him with an unreadable expression. When it went on for another long beat, Dean snapped, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you remember about what happened last night?"

Confusion crossed Dean’s features. "What do you mean, what happened? What are you talking about?"

"You had a nightmare. A pretty bad one. Woke me up, screaming."

Dean shook his head. "I—what?" he started. "I don’t remember anything," then he snapped his jaw shut as something flitted across his mind.

Sam pressed on. "Are you sure? You can talk to me, Dean."

The older Winchester stood abruptly from the bed. "Look, Sam," he snapped. "You don’t have the corner on nightmares, okay? I told you I don’t remember anything. Just _drop it_."

Then he turned and stalked off into the bathroom, closing the door forcefully behind him…and immediately sagged against it. He laid his head back against the door and closed his eyes. He blew out a breath before pushing away from the door to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

He had just lied. Outright lied to his brother.

Dean hung his head and rubbed at his eyes, hoping to make the images disappear. It didn’t work.

At first he honestly didn’t remember the nightmare. Then all at once it had come rushing back. Jess, the ceiling, the fire, the feeling of terror.

What the _hell_? Why the hell would he be dreaming of Sam’s dead girlfriend? And _how_ could he have dreamed it? He hadn’t arrived until the room was already on fire. Yet he had seen everything leading up to it – Sam walking through the apartment, the cookies, the sound of the shower – it didn’t make any damn sense.

Which is why he hadn’t told Sam. The last thing he needed was his brother doing some damn psychoanalysis bullshit on him and picking it apart, discussing it to death, trying to find some meaning in it. To Dean it was just some weird-ass, freakish, one-time thing and he was happy to leave it at that. And forget about it. Though he did wonder what he had screamed out. And how much Sam knew. It might be too much to hope for that his brother would forget about it, too.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

A short while later Dean was showered and dressed, sitting on the bed, lacing up his boots. He had hoped the warm, soothing water would have refreshed him, eased the throbbing in his head. But in truth he was still tired and the headache remained.

Sam had said nothing more about the nightmare, but suggested they find someplace to have an early dinner, since they had slept through both breakfast and lunch. Then he wanted to hit the local library, do some further research on necromancy and try to identify some of the objects they had seen in the cabin.

Dean had agreed and soon they were walking out into the late August sunshine, headed the few short blocks to the local diner, the Whistle Stop. Dean squinted at the bright light and immediately slipped on his sunglasses. He breathed in deeply of the mountain air, trying to clear his head, smelling the faint hint of fall in the air.

The Whistle Stop was a cozy place, named for the CSX railroad that bisected the town, running parallel to the Cheat River. The railroad employed most of the townspeople, along with the coal mines. These were simple folk, friendly people who chose to live up here in the mountains and raise their families. They had no idea that monsters walked among them.

The diner wasn’t crowded, but Kingsburg was a fairly small town and the locals all knew each other, so conversations were flowing freely when Sam and Dean entered the restaurant.

They slid into a booth near the windows, and Dean kept his sunglasses on. The menus were on the table, so the brothers were ready to order when the waitress appeared. They served breakfast 24-hours here, due to the railroad workers schedules, so Dean got scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee, while Sam had an omelet with orange juice.

Though Sam hadn’t brought up Dean’s nightmare again, it was obvious in the looks he was shooting the older man that he wanted to, and their meal was eaten in strained silence. Well, Sam ate, anyway, with an appetite Dean hadn’t seen for years. He even ordered more toast and another glass of juice.

For Dean, the idea of food had sounded good, but once it actually appeared in front of him his stomach had second thoughts. The constant pain of the headache was making him queasy, and he pushed his eggs around on his plate, opting for two more aspirin from the bottle he’d brought with him, and several cups of coffee instead.

"You gonna be okay, Dean? I can go to the library myself—"

Dean stopped rubbing his temple. "I’m _fine_ , Sam," he answered, irritation evident in his tone. "It’s just a damn headache, all right?"

Sam held up his hands. "Okay, fine. You ready to go, then?"

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

The words on the page blurred before Dean’s tired eyes. It was two hours later, and the brothers were ensconced in an out of the way corner in the Kingsburg Public Library. Sam was knee-deep in necromancy research while Dean had been staring at the same page for twenty minutes, as the throbbing in his head kept time with his heartbeat. Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t felt this miserable in…well, he didn’t know when. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the motel and sleep, try to get rid of this blasted headache. He needed to concentrate, to focus, and that was damn hard to do when your skull was pounding.

But displaying any kind of weakness was not the Winchester way. That had been instilled in Dean from childhood, courtesy of his father. So suck it up and get past the pain and the lethargy, he told himself. Dean took a deep breath. He and Sam had a job to do. But he was going to need coffee, and a lot of it, if he was going to function.

He lifted his head to look at Sam and saw Sam do the same.

"Still got your headache, huh?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I’m gonna go make a coffee run. Do—"

"Dean," Sam stopped him. "Why don’t you just go back to the motel? Lay down for—"

"I’m _fine_ , Sam," Dean insisted. "It’s _just a headache_."

"And one that’s lasted for nearly two days now," Sam pointed out. "You look like shit, Dean. And if you’re too tired or too distracted by the pounding in your head, what good are you gonna be if we go after these guys again tonight?"

Dean shook his head. "Sam—" he started to protest, but was cut off by his younger brother.

"Can you really watch my back with the way you feel right now?"

Dean’s jaw snapped shut. That was a low blow and Sam knew it. Knew that Dean put Sam’s safety and protection ahead of his own, and had since Sam was an infant.

There was no rebuttal to that and Dean stood abruptly, his chair pushing back with a scrape, loud in the quiet of the library. He shrugged into his outer shirt, annoyance apparent in his movements.

Sam sighed. "Jesus, Dean, it’s okay to admit you’re not feeling well."

Dean ignored the statement. "Wake me in a couple hours. We need to go over all this." He waved his hand at the pile of books.

"I will," Sam replied. "I’ll bring dinner back with me."

Dean didn’t respond. Simply snatched his sunglasses from the table and walked away from Sam and out the library doors, hating the fact that he appeared weak in front of his brother. And had gotten called on it.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Dean closed the motel room door behind him and tossed his sunglasses onto the table. He took off his outer shirt and it landed half-on, half-off the back of the chair. He turned and pulled the curtains closed, plunging the room into cooling darkness. Dean rubbed angrily at his burning eyes and throbbing temples as he crossed the floor to the bathroom. Once there he downed two more aspirin, not caring he’d just taken some a few hours ago.

He pulled off his t-shirt on the way back to his bed, then took off his boots and slipped out of his jeans, leaving everything in a pile. He yanked the covers back and crawled under them, vowing that if he woke up once more with the damn headache he’d just shoot himself in the head and be done with it.

 

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

 

Dean stood up from Mrs. Miller’s side as Max entered the room. He took a step toward the boy but was violently thrown against the wall. He watched as Max pulled out Dean’s own gun and pointed it at his step-mother. 

"Max! No. Max," Mrs. Miller pleaded.

Dean got to his feet and Max and the gun turned toward him. "Stay back, it’s not about you."

Dean stepped between Max and his step-mother. "If you wanna kill her, you gotta go through me first."

Max’s eyes were cold and dark. "Okay."

__

BANG!

__

The bullet pierced Dean’s skull and his blood sprayed in a crimson splash against the wall. His lifeless body collapsed to the floor as Sam screamed from the doorway…

 

 

…Dean lay in the hospital bed, fighting for every breath, the monitors showing the final struggle of his failing heart. His hand was clasped loosely in his brother’s, Sam’s thumb stroking his pale, cold skin.

"Look, Sammy…what can I say?" Dean paused for a breath. "It’s a dangerous gig…I drew the short straw." Again a pause, his breathing getting weaker. "That’s it, end of story."

Sam shook his head, tears glistening in his eyes. "Dean, please…"

Dean tried for a smile and managed to hold it for a moment. "Hey, you better take care of that car…or I swear…I’ll haunt your ass."

The monitors started beeping and Dean squeezed Sam’s hand weakly. "I know you tried..."

A tear broke free to trail down Sam’s face as he watched Dean’s chest barely rise and fall. "I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I couldn’t—"

Dean shook his head. "It’s okay, Sammy. It’s—" 

Dean’s eyes slid closed for the last time as Sam clutched his hand and wept…

 

 

…Sam stood over his brother’s prone body, lying on the filthy asylum floor, spewing his long buried rage at him.

"That’s the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I’m not pathetic like you!"

Dean, winded from the rock salt blast, managed to breathe, "So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?" He pulled his chrome .45 from his waistband. "Well then here, let me make it easier for you." He offered the gun to Sam. "C’mon, take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." Sam hesitated and Dean yelled, "Take it!"

Sam reached down and grabbed the gun, immediately turning it on Dean.

Dean’s expressive eyes spoke volumes as he looked down the barrel of his own gun. "You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead, pull the trigger. Do it!"

__

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

__

The gunshots echoed loudly in the room, the bullets slamming into Dean’s chest at nearly point-blank range, his body jerking with each impact. As Dean’s lifeblood began to soak into the floor, staining it red, the horrifying realization of what he’d just done pushed past the fog in Sam’s brain.

The gun fell from nerveless fingers as Sam dropped to his knees beside Dean’s lifeless body, hands pressing futilely against his brother’s bloody chest.

"No! No! NOOO!"

 

 

Dean bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, breaths coming in heaving gasps, hands clutching at his chest. 

"Dean!"

Dean turned wild eyes toward the sound of Sam’s cry, found his brother jumping up from the chair, tossing his pizza back in the box, crossing quickly to his side. Dean’s hands continued to move against his chest.

"Blood…so much blood…I didn’t mean it, I—"

Sam’s hands covered his own, stilling his movements. "No, there’s no blood. You’re fine, Dean. C’mon, breathe, calm down, it was a nightmare…"

Sam’s words washed over him, bringing him back from the panic of his nightmare. He sagged toward his brother, blinking rapidly as the real world came back into focus. He let out a shuddering breath as Sam caught him by his upper arms.

"Sam?" he whispered.

"Yeah," his brother replied softly. "You back with me now?"

Dean swallowed deeply and nodded, straightening up. Sam’s hands slid down his arms, one hand coming to rest on Dean’s leg, still covered by the blanket.

Dean ran a hand over his face. "What the hell…?"

"Exactly what I was thinking." Sam squeezed Dean’s leg, his voice quiet. "You feel like talking to me about this now?"

Dean’s mouth opened but nothing came out. No, he couldn’t do this now. Not until he got all this straight in his own head. He pulled away from Sam, climbing out the other side of the bed.

"I can’t do this now," he told him, moving toward the bathroom, Sam’s angry words following him.

"Damn it, Dean, tell me what’s going on!"

Dean closed the bathroom door and leaned heavily on the sink, his head hanging. He needed to think. Needed to be away from Sam for a little while. Stalling for time, he pulled off his boxers and stepped into the shower, wanting to wash off the fine sheen of sweat that coated his body. As he reached for the taps, he noticed his hand was shaking. What the _fuck_ was happening to him?

He turned the water on and let the spray wash over him. God, none of this made any sense. First Jess and now his own death, over and over. He had never been one prone to nightmares. That was all Sam’s bag. And on the rare occasion that he _did_ have one, it was about Sam or his dad coming to some harm, as was a very real possibility in their line of "work". But he had never dreamed of his _own_ death before. He had felt Sam’s pain so clearly in both nightmares, losing Jess, then losing him, again and again. It was like Sam was right there, in his head, or he had gotten into Sam’s head or—

Dean suddenly stood stock still.

Oh, _shit_.

He bent down and quickly turned off the taps, throwing the shower curtain open. He barely passed the towel over his wet hair and body before yanking on his boxers and throwing open the door.

He burst out into the main room, startling Sam, who was still sitting on Dean’s bed. He stood up at Dean’s abrupt entrance.

"What? What is it?"

Dean moved to stand in front of his brother. "Sam…something happened at the cabin, didn’t it?"

Sam’s forehead furrowed. "Happened?"

"When we were both touching that glass sphere. I felt...I thought I saw…" Dean trailed off, unsure how to put the experience into words.

Turns out he didn’t have to, as Sam’s mouth dropped opened. "It happened so fast," he started, "I thought maybe I’d imagined it or something."

"What did you see, Sam?" Dean’s voice was tight, urgent.

"Myself," Sam replied. "But like I was standing across from myself, looking back at me. It was so strange…"

Dean dropped down onto the bed. "Oh, fuck."

Sam quickly sat beside him. "Dean, what _is it_? What aren’t you telling me?" he demanded.

The older Winchester looked at his younger brother. "The same thing happened to me. That thing…it did something to us."

"What do you mean? I feel fine. Great, actually. There’s nothing –" Sam cut himself off. "Wait. Your nightmares?"

"No, Sam, I think I’m seeing _your_ nightmares."

" _What_?"

"You said I screamed last night," Dean said quietly, knowing this was going to be painful territory for his brother. "What did I say?"

Sam looked away, down at the floor. "Her name. You screamed out Jess’s name. And…you said you were sorry, that it was your fault."

"Sam…why would I have been dreaming of Jess? Why would I have said all that?"

After a moment Sam turned back to Dean. "But how do you know for sure that it was my nightmare? I’ve talked about it enough. Hell, you were there that night…you saw…"

"Okay, let me ask you this. Were you eating a cookie before…before it happened?" Dean asked.

Sam gave a start. "How—how could you know that?"

Dean shook his head. "I couldn’t. Do you believe me now?"

"Shit."

Dean gave a humorless chuckle. "Yep."

"Wait. You said you didn’t remember anything," Sam accused.

"I know. I’m sorry I lied to you. It just…freaked me the hell out, you know? And I thought it was just some weird, one time thing. But now…" he blew out a breath.

Sam cleared his throat. "This…other nightmare you just had. Was it Jess again?"

This time it was Dean’s turn to look away. "No…it wasn’t."

"Can you tell me?" the request was soft, hesitant.

Dean swallowed, then stood, walking a few steps away from the bed, his back to his brother. "It was about me. Dying. Over and over."

"God, Dean…"

But Dean kept going, his voice carefully neutral, as if Sam hadn’t of spoken, needing to get this out, to try and understand.

"First it was Max, with the gun. He shot me, right through the head. You were standing in the doorway, screaming."

Dean went to the window, pushed the curtains aside and stared out into the evening twilight. "Then it was me in the hospital, after the rawhead. But there was no faith healer and I died there, with you standing next to me, holding my hand."

He finally turned to face Sam. "The asylum was the last one. But this time," he swallowed as his throat tightened. "This time the gun was loaded. You shot me four times." He paused. "Is that all true? Is that what you dream about?"

Sam nodded, anguish coloring his voice as he stood and crossed over to Dean, standing close to his brother. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see all that."

"Jess I understand. That was real. And…it would haunt me, too." Dean’s hazel-green eyes locked with ones so like his own. "But me? Sam, none of that happened like that. Why do you dream of me dying over and over?"

"Because that’s my worst nightmare - losing you," Sam admitted softly, eyes shimmering. 

The air was suddenly charged with emotion and Dean felt overwhelmed, felt moisture pricking at the back of his eyes. "Sam…" he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch his brother’s arm.

"They’re a reminder of what can happen because of something I did or because I wasn’t good enough, fast enough, to save you." The words poured out of Sam, his voice rough. 

Dean saw Sam’s arm raise up, felt his brother’s hand settle large and warm on his hip. Dean stepped even closer, slid his hand up to the back of Sam’s neck, then hooked his arm around the back of Sam’s shoulders and gently pulled his brother into his arms.

Dean felt his brother sigh and relax into Dean’s embrace, his arms winding around Dean’s bare back. Dean closed his eyes, spoke softly into the crook of Sam’s neck.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Sam? I know you’ll always have my back. You’ll always be there for me. I have faith in you. You need to have some in yourself."

The young men stood there for a long moment, finding strength, reassurance and comfort in each other’s arms. 

Dean heard Sam sniff, then his brother’s head turned slightly, his lips just barely pressing against Dean’s neck. Dean shivered at the contact, hand flexing against Sam’s shoulder, but then his brother was straightening up, moving back out of Dean’s arms. The older man felt suddenly bereft at the loss of contact.

Sam couldn’t quite meet Dean’s gaze, averting his eyes and clearing his throat. "So, umm," he began, "What do you think happened to us?"

"I think that, for a second at least, we were in each other’s bodies," Dean hypothesized. "That would explain why we were looking at ourselves."

Sam nodded. "But why aren’t we still in each other’s bodies? What was the point in all of it?" he wondered. "It gives one person the other’s nightmares? That makes no sense at all."

Dean shrugged. "I know, I don’t understand it, either. But we’re gonna figure it out." He cocked his head at Sam. "You’re okay, though? Nothing strange going on with you?"

Sam looked away. "Actually…something did happen. After you left the library."

"What? Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," he reassured Dean. Then he smiled. "Better than fine, actually."

"You’re confusing the hell outta me, Sammy. Just tell me what happened."

Sam nodded. "Okay, watch." Then he turned and stared at the dresser against the back wall. Dean followed his gaze, but saw nothing there but a lamp. Before he could question his brother, the lamp suddenly floated up a good eight inches, hovered, then floated to the left. It hovered again, before moving back to the right. Then it floated back down, but one edge came down first, throwing off the balance and the lamp ended up falling over on its side, the bulb breaking with a soft _pop_.

The younger Winchester glanced at his older brother with a sheepish expression. "Oops."

Dean stared back, eyes wide, mouth slack. "You haven’t been able to do that since Max’s house…I know you’ve been trying…"

"I know. I was sitting in the library, staring down at my pen, just thinking, and it started moving, spinning. Thought I was doing it unconsciously again, like with the cabinet at Max’s, but then I really concentrated and I moved it, and the books on the table, too." Sam was getting more animated as he spoke. "I don’t know how to explain it, but my mind…it feels so much clearer now, like I can focus, it’s not buried anymore." He stopped. "Do you think this is connected to the sphere, too?"

"Makes sense. It took something from your head, and gave it to me. Like you said, your head is clearer, and your power is more pronounced now." Dean smiled. "This is a good thing, Sam, for you to finally be able to control this, use it."

"No, Dean! Not if it means you’re suffering because of it. We need to get back to the cabin, get the sphere, fix this…"

"No, Sam, our first priority is to stop these people, stop them from killing – "

Dean cut himself off as he felt a sharp twinge of pain in the center of his forehead, then a warm wetness on his upper lip. He raised his fingers up and they came away smeared with blood. "What the hell?"

"Dean? Oh man, your nose is bleeding. Hang on, let me get a—"

The rest of Sam’s words were lost as intense, excruciating pain suddenly lanced through Dean’s skull. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut, hands gripping either side of his head as his legs buckled under the assault. His knees hit the floor just as a kaleidoscope of colors burst across his eyelids. The world seemed to tilt on its axis and he felt himself toppling over as everything went white…

__

trees  
  
rushing water   
  
blonde-haired girl

__

moon

__

water tower

__

child screaming

__

candles 

__

railroad tracks

__

bearded man   
  
men in robes

__

 

 

Dean came back to himself with a gasp, his entire body jerking. He was still on the floor, but his upper body was now cradled in Sam’s strong arms. 

"Dean! Jesus, Dean, can you hear me?" Panic laced Sam’s voice and Dean’s eyes opened. Sam blew out a breath. "Are you all right? What the hell was that?"

The words were barely a whisper, Dean’s mind still reeling from the onslaught of images crashing in his brain. "Apparently I got your visions, too." Then Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

A cool, damp sensation on his forehead brought Dean around the second time. He groaned, his head feeling like someone had hit him with a sledgehammer, and opened his eyes. He was laying on his bed, Sam sitting next to him, gently placing a wet washcloth on his head.

Sam gave him a small smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Dean rasped. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough," Sam answered as he put the washcloth on the bedside table. "You scared the shit outta me, Dean."

"Yeah, well it wasn’t a barrel of laughs—" Dean’s eyes suddenly went wide as flashes of his vision came back to him. He pushed up into a sitting position then started to scramble off the bed. "We’ve gotta go. _Right now_."

Sam caught his arm. "Wait, Dean, what did you see?"

Dean screwed his eyes shut, his voice tight. "They’ve got another child, Sam." He swallowed deeply. "A little blonde girl. I heard…I heard her screaming." He shrugged off Sam’s hand. "C’mon."

"But where are we _going_ , Dean? What else did you see?" Sam questioned his brother as Dean began gathering up his clothes, moving around the room, his motions bordering on frantic. "Just stop for a minute! Rushing off headlong isn’t going to help her!"

Pausing mid-motion from picking up his discarded shirt, Dean straightened. "I know, I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s just—" he gave a shaky sigh. "I keep hearing her screaming…"

"We’ll find her, Dean," Sam told his brother, gently but firmly. "Just take a minute and sit down, okay?"

Nodding, Dean first slipped into the jeans he was holding, then joined Sam on the bed.

"Now relax and take it slow."

Blowing out a breath, Dean let his eyes close. "It was dark, I saw the moon. It was in the woods. Men in robes, candles. The same man with the beard that you saw. Could be their leader." His jaw twitched. "The little blonde girl, screaming…"

"Did you see any landmarks? Anything to narrow down where all this was? Did you see the cabin?" Sam quietly questioned Dean.

Dean tipped his head slightly, trying to remember more. "No…I didn’t see the cabin. There was…water, rushing water. Pretty loud. And…railroad tracks. They were near the water." His forehead furrowed. "There was something else…I know there was." He opened his eyes and shook his head. "Damn it, I can’t remember."

The younger Winchester squeezed his older brother’s shoulder. "You did great, Dean." Then he looked away. "I’m sorry you had to go through that, though."

"I’m sorry _you_ have to go through it, Sam," Dean replied. "I know you never wanted this…gift."

"Gift," Sam huffed. "More like a damn curse." He stood, effectively ending that part of the conversation. "Let me get the map and we’ll figure out where to start looking."

Dean just nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, as he watched his brother walk over to the table and retrieve the map.

Sam returned and spread the map on the bed between them. "Okay, the water and the railroad tracks will be our best starting place." He ran his finger over the paper, tracing the path of the railroad tracks. "Now the Cheat River runs parallel to the tracks, but quite a distance away from them…but you said you could hear the water near the tracks…" His finger stopped. "Okay. This area along here; the river and the railroad tracks are at their closest point."

Dean looked at the area Sam was indicating with a frown. "That’s gotta be a five mile stretch, Sam. That’s a lot of ground to cover."

"It’s the only thing we’ve got to go on at this point. We’ll just start at one end and keep going."

Dean pounded his fist on the bed in frustration. "There’s more, Sam. I _know_ I saw something else. Shit, why can’t I remember?" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Dean, this totally blindsided and overwhelmed you. It’s amazing you remembered as much as you did. At least now we’ve got a starting point."

But Dean wasn’t mollified. "If she dies, it’ll be my fault."

"Dean, no…"

Dean ignored his brother as he moved off the bed, picked up his shirt and retreated to the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the smear of dried blood under his nose, along his upper lip. He turned the water on in the sink and quickly washed his face, then pulled on his shirt. He gave his reflection a hard look, jaw set, then went back out to join his brother.

The younger hunter was busying himself checking their weapons and putting them back in the duffle bag. He looked up when Dean entered the room.

"You ready?"

Dean reached down and picked up one of the shotguns, cocking it. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

An hour later, Dean’s anger and frustration had reached a boiling point. He and Sam had been searching in the woods along the railroad tracks and had discovered nothing. It was slow going in the dark, and Dean knew every minute counted.

He was mentally berating himself the entire time, trying to force himself to remember a piece of information he was certain was vital to finding the little girl. Before it was too late.

"Think, damn it," he muttered, flashlight sweeping along the ground. He suddenly let out a pained gasp and sagged against the nearest tree. He felt a trickle of blood seep from his nose as an image flashed in his mind.

Sam was at his side in an instant, holding on to his brother’s arms, in case Dean passed out again. But Dean straightened and wiped the blood from his face with the cuff of his sleeve. He’d done it. He gave small, triumphant smile. "I remember."

His brother smiled back. "I knew you could do it."

"It’s a water tower, Sam. That’s what I saw. It was old, wooden, falling apart. Right along the tracks."

"I don’t think we’ll find it on the map, if it’s not modern. Our best bet would be to just go up on the tracks themselves and follow them, now that we know what we’re looking for. Keep out of the woods. We can make better time that way." He squeezed Dean’s shoulder. "Good job, Dean."

But Dean shook his head. "Save it for when we find her. Alive."

Now that the brothers knew the landmark they were looking for, they hurried along the railroad tracks, watching for the water tower. It was another two miles before the dark shadow of the tower appeared against the moonlit sky.

The hunters moved off the tracks, into the woods, about a half mile before they reached the tower. They moved cautiously, listening intently, but detected no movement or noises. Still nothing as they approached the area and Dean began to doubt himself, what he thought he’d remembered.

Until they stepped out from the tree line, into the grassy area surrounding the tower.

And saw her.

A small, blonde-haired girl, dressed in a white nightgown. Lying so very still on the ground.

Dean took off at a run, boots tearing up the grass. He threw himself down on his knees beside the child, words spilling from his lips. "Please, oh god, please…"

His hand shook as he pressed his fingers against her pale neck, searching for a pulse, as he put his head down, listening for a heartbeat. 

But there was nothing.

Dean shook his head as he leaned back away from her body. "No…no," he whispered disbelievingly. He had remembered, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this…

Sam’s hand was on his shoulder. "I’m sorry, Dean…"

" _NO!_ " Dean screamed his anguish into the night sky, surging up and flinging himself away from Sam and the little girl, running toward the trees until he stumbled, falling to his hands and knees in the dirt. He gasped for breath, tears stinging his eyes, head hanging.

He felt Sam’s arms around his shoulders, pulling Dean’s body against his. Dean let him, his back falling against his brother’s chest. One of Sam’s arms came around him, holding him tightly as they sat on the ground.

"It’s my fault, Sam," Dean whispered brokenly. "I didn’t remember fast enough…" A sob tore free. "Oh god, she’s dead because of me…" 

"No, _no_." The side of Sam’s face was pressed against Dean’s. "Don’t do this to yourself. You did everything you could. This is _not_ your fault."

"How can you say that?!" Dean tried to move away, but Sam’s arm tightened around him.

"Because I’ve been there, Dean!" Then Sam calmed, his breath soft against Dean’s neck. "Remember Max’s father? And his uncle?"

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, face dirty and smudged with tear tracks, as Sam continued.

"I had a vision both times, and I couldn’t save either of them."

Dean looked away, his head understanding what Sam was telling him, but his heart could only see his failure, lying on the grass just a few yards away. Tears welled up again and he tried once more to push away from his brother, to not let Sam see him cry. But Sam held him fast.

"Stop, Dean," Sam told him, voice low. "It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you _human_." He paused, and Dean could have sworn he felt the fleeting press of Sam’s lips against the top of his head. "It’s okay, I’ve got you."

For an instant Dean thought about pushing away again, but then gave in to his brother’s warmth and strength, needing both, sagging back against him. And Sam held him as he let his silent, angry tears flow, mourning the loss of yet another small life, so violently taken.

It was long moments later when Dean’s breathing calmed and his tears stopped. Sam’s hand rubbed against his chest as he said, "We need to call the police and leave an anonymous tip, tell them where to find her. Then we need to get out of here."

Dean twisted around, shaking his head. "No. I won’t leave her laying out here like this…all alone. I won’t."

Sam nodded. "Okay, we’ll call and then wait until we can hear them coming, then take off before they spot us."

They walked slowly back to where the girl’s body lay, Dean using the bottom of his shirt to clean off his face the best he could. He paused a few feet away from her. 

"We need to look at her body. To see…"

"I’ll do it," Sam volunteered. "Why don’t you look for a place to wait, somewhere up near the tracks?"

"Thanks, Sam," Dean replied gruffly, walking away toward the tree line.

He found a spot about twelve feet in, with a good view of the area in front of the tower and close enough to the railroad tracks so they could easily leave that way without being spotted. He settled himself down sideways against a large tree, leaning his shoulder on it, and watched as Sam knelt down beside the little girl and looked over her body, at one point peeling back the neckline of her nightgown. Then he stood and pulled out his cell phone, spoke briefly then tucked it back in his pocket.

Sam joined him a minute later, sinking down to the ground, sitting close to Dean.

"Well?" Dean asked.

Sam looked down at the dirt. "Yeah, she was exsanguinated. I saw the puncture wounds."

"And the symbol?"

A nod. "On her chest. Same as the others."

Dean was silent for a moment, then asked, "You got ahold of the police then?"

"I convinced them it was no prank call. They’re sending people out here. I hung up when she started asking my name."

The brothers fell quiet then, no more to say, both sets of eyes on the small body. Dean leaned his head against the tree trunk, the emotional and physical toll of the day suddenly catching up with him. He was exhausted, bone-tired, limbs heavy, his head fuzzy. He felt his eyelids start to droop…

…and was jolted back to himself sometime later with a soft "Whoa" from Sam, feeling one of his brother’s hands on his back, the other on his chest. Dean blinked open his eyes, realizing he must have started to tip forward and Sam had caught him.

Dean cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Sam let his hand drop from Dean’s chest, but kept the other at the small of Dean’s back.

"It’s okay. Been a long day," Sam said. "Go ahead and close your eyes. I’ll keep watch."

But before Dean could respond, both young men caught sight of lights moving in the distance.

"Time to go," he told Sam, and with a last look at the child, the hunters moved up onto the tracks and hurried away.  
  


	2. Chapter 1

**Title** : Stronger Now  
 **Author** : agt_spooky  
 **Pairing** : Sam/Dean  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers** : General season 1  
 **Warnings** : Wincest  
 **Word Count** : 20,155 (total story)  
 **Disclaimer** : I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!  
 **Summary** : Who or what is killing children in Kingsburg? Sam and Dean investigate the deaths and race to stop another from happening. Along the way, Dean shows how far he’ll go to protect his brother.  
  
Huge thanks to my best buddy, [ ](http://charityflint.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://charityflint.livejournal.com/)**charityflint** , for her incredible beta work on this. You're awesome!  
  
 **Author's Notes** : Story is complete and is being posted in three parts. There is a link to the third part at the end of this part.  
  
  
  
  PART TWO  
  
Making their way along the railroad tracks, the Winchesters made good time getting back to the Impala. They threw their gear into the trunk, then Dean was driving toward their motel.

Sam broke the silence in the car a few minutes later.

"Dean, we need to go back to the cabin. Get that sphere," he started. "I don’t want…You’ve been through enough. The vision, the nightmares – these are my problems, not yours. We need to fix this."

But the older man didn’t acknowledge his younger brother. Simply set his jaw and continued on to their motel.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Hours later Dean once again woke with a pounding heart and a sheen of sweat on his body. He sat up in the semi-darkness of the motel room, running a hand over his face and through his hair, waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

Another nightmare. Another of _Sam’s_ nightmares.

There was nothing specific this time that Dean could recall with any clarity, just an overwhelming sense of death and the heat of fire. Fire would always haunt them.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed, and saw that Sam was sleeping facing him in the other bed. Dean took a minute to really look at his brother, unobserved. And saw, for the first time since Sam was a small child, his younger brother sleeping peacefully, and deeply. No furrows in his forehead or rapidly moving eyes beneath his eyelids or twitching of limbs. He was sleeping like he had done before their father had told him the monsters under the bed and in the closet were real. And he lost his innocence.

Dean would do anything to give that back to his brother. He had been his protector since little Sammy was six months old. But over this past year, with the emergence of Sam’s…gifts, this was something that Dean could not protect him from. And he felt helpless.

But looking at his brother now, relaxed and calm, because his nightmares and visions had been taken away from him, Dean resolved to carry this burden for Sam. He could do it. He _would_ do it. Gladly. To protect Sam and spare him the pain his abilities caused him.

That’s what you did for someone you loved more than anything in the entire world. 

Dean smiled softly at the sleeping form of his brother then went into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. As he lay back down against his pillows he muttered softly, "C’mon, Sam, you’ve gotta have at least _one_ good dream in that head of yours. I could sure use one right about now."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Dean felt the mattress dip and he blinked open his sleep-heavy eyes to find his brother sitting beside him on the bed.

"Sam?" he questioned in a tired voice. "You need something?"

His brother smiled and licked his lips. "Just you," he replied in a low whisper.

Dean grinned back and reached out. "Then c’mere," he answered, tugging Sam fully up onto the bed.

Sam found himself on top of Dean, straddling the older man’s legs. Dean’s boxers were riding low on his waist, exposing his flat stomach and a fine line of hair leading tantalizingly beneath his waistband.

Sam licked his lips unconsciously, then leaned down to place a kiss on Dean’s bare chest. Dean closed his eyes and sighed, and Sam continued on his exploration of his brother’s body.

The younger man ran his hands lightly over Dean’s upper chest, his thumbs brushing over flat nipples. Dean shivered at the contact and Sam tipped his head down to tease one of the nubs with his tongue.

"Oh, yeah…" Dean breathed. 

Sam laved the nipple with his tongue until it was a small, hard peak and his brother started to squirm beneath him.

"More, Sam…"

Wanting to give Dean the stimulation he was asking for, Sam lightly bit his brother’s nipple. Dean gasped in pleasure and Sam repeated the process on the other side of his chest. Dean was panting by the time Sam raised his head, and it took all of his willpower not to bring his hands down and guide Sam’s head lower. He wanted it so bad...

As if able to read Dean’s mind, or see the desire in his hazel eyes, Sam lowered his head once again, kissing his way down to the waistband of Dean’s shorts. He pulled them down just a bit, enough to see more of the thin line of dusky hair.

Sam glanced up then said, "Lift up for me."

Dean gladly obeyed and Sam slowly pulled down his shorts, exposing Dean’s erection inch by inch, driving Dean crazy at the slow pace, until he was totally exposed. Dean held his breath as Sam dipped his head down, and would have come completely up off the mattress if not for his brother sitting on his legs when Sam took the head of his penis in his mouth.

"Oh god, Sam!" he exclaimed, as his younger brother’s tongue swept over his erection.

Sam opened his mouth wider, taking more of Dean in, and the older man groaned, clenching his fists beside him and closing his eyes.

The younger Winchester started moving his head up and down, sucking gently at first, then increasing the pressure, finally adding one hand to pump the hard shaft, too.

"Sam…Sam," Dean panted, desperately wanting to move his hips, to push into Sam’s mouth, but he couldn’t move. So instead he opened his eyes and looked down…to see his penis sliding in and out of his brother’s mouth.

Dean moaned deeply at the sight and felt his orgasm coiling at the base of his spine. No longer able to keep his hands still, he brought them down and tangled his fingers in Sam’s soft brown hair.

"I’m almost there, Sam…I’m almost…ahh—"

 

 

"—God!" Dean exhaled as the first pulse of his orgasm overtook him, throwing him from the dream. His eyes flew open and his hand reached down between his legs, stroking himself roughly through his boxers, feeling wetness soak into the soft material as he came.

He panted quietly as he tried to get his breathing and heart rate slowed, squeezing himself gently as fine tremors raced through his body, still feeling Sam’s hands and mouth on his body.

His eyes slid closed for a moment. Well… _damn_. 

Dean looked over at his still sleeping brother, blissfully unaware that Dean had tapped into another of his dreams. One that Dean desperately needed to process.

Pushing back the covers, Dean pulled off his sticky boxers, using them to clean himself off. He tossed them in the corner and slid into a pair of jeans, zipping them but not bothering with the top button. Barefoot and bare chested, he padded across the carpeting to the motel room door, opened it quietly and slipped outside.

The late summer morning was cool, and Dean shivered slightly in the damp mountain air. He walked the short distance from their room at the end of the building to his car, gleaming black and sleek, covered with dew.

He turned and slid up onto the trunk, feeling the moisture seep into his jeans. The bumper was chilly against his bare feet, as was the glass of the rear window as he leaned his back against it.

The parking lot was quiet in the pre-dawn hour and the faint sound of birds echoed in the nearby woods. The sun was just starting to rise, bathing the world in soft pinks and yellows. The peaceful environment helped to calm Dean’s racing thoughts and he blew out a slow breath.

So Sam dreamt about having sex with him.

This should be a shocking revelation to him. But he had to be honest with himself. It wasn’t.

Shortly after Sam turned sixteen, the way he acted toward Dean started to change. The way he looked at Dean, found any excuse to touch him, be close to him or wrestle with him… Deep down, Dean knew Sam wanted something…more from him.

But Dean refused to acknowledge Sam’s changing feelings toward him, or his own reciprocal feelings, for that matter. Just…no. They were both…confused. Especially Sam. He was too young to even realize what he was asking for, what he thought he wanted. And the repercussions of it. And Dean blamed it on their lonely, nomad existence. It was impossible for either his brother or him to ever form any attachments with other people. They were never in any one place long enough to start a relationship with a person of either gender.

All they’d ever had was each other.

Then Sam hit puberty and his body started changing. And the only constant person in his life that had ever shown him unconditional love – was Dean. Their family was so fucked up that it didn’t even occur to Sam that desiring your brother was wrong. He loved Dean, and that was all that mattered.

Dean chewed on his bottom lip. He wished it was that simple.

He would have been blind to not see what an attractive young man Sam was turning into. His growth spurt shot him up two inches taller than Dean by the time Sam was fifteen, and he was still growing. His muscles were getting more defined by the day, thanks to the rigorous training sessions their father put them through. Then there was his expressive hazel-green eyes, and the way he wore his heart on his sleeve.

In a word, Sam was beautiful. And Dean was attracted to him.

But Dean refused to give in to his sick desire. His brother was just a kid, for fuck’s sake! Not to mention he was his _brother_. He couldn’t do this to Sam. He _wouldn’t_ do that to him. This was Dean’s twisted cross to bear.

And when he realized the attraction was mutual, he fought tooth and nail against it. He wanted so much more for his brother. Dean had accepted long ago that hunting would be all he ever had. But Sam deserved a chance to get out of this screwed up life, not be drawn further into it. And he would be if they started something. Something that could end up damaging him emotionally and keep him from ever forming a healthy relationship with someone.

So Dean ignored his brother’s…advances. Dying a little inside each time. And over the next year and a half Sam slowly withdrew, hurt and loneliness etched on his face and in his eyes. It was with relief that Dean took the news that Sam was leaving for college. Relief, and happiness. Sam had found his way out.

But now…

Now Sam was back in his life. Right where Dean thought Sam would never be again.

And that dream…

They weren’t teenagers in that dream. Sam was dreaming about them both _now_ , in the present day. Fantasizing about giving Dean a blowjob. Dean shifted on the car, feeling himself getting hard just thinking about it; how it had felt to have Sam’s mouth and hands on him like that.

They weren’t kids anymore. Sam was an adult now, capable of making his own choices. And apparently he was still choosing Dean. 

And that both terrified and thrilled Dean. Terrified him because this was still wrong in the eyes of…everyone. And this could end up destroying them both. But thrilled that now, so many years later, Sam had to understand what that meant, and yet his feelings for Dean hadn’t changed. He still wanted this.

"Dean?"

Sam’s quiet voice pulled Dean from his musings and he turned head to see his brother looking at him from the doorway of their room.

"Yeah, Sammy."

Sam stepped outside and Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Sam was dressed as he was, barefoot and shirtless, wearing only his baggy jeans. Dean sat up slowly as his brother approached, bare feet padding silently across the blacktop, stopping to stand between Dean’s bent legs.

Dean let his gaze wander up the long length of his little brother’s body, noting the trail of dusky hair that started below Sam’s waistband and ended under his naval, his defined stomach and chest muscles and his soft skin, marred only by an occasional faded scar. His nipples were dark, hardened in the cool morning air. The smooth column of his neck disappeared underneath the shaggy brown hair and ended at the strong shape of Sam’s jaw.

But his eyes…his brother’s eyes. So open and trusting. Windows to the soul, indeed. But windows that Sam only ever allowed Dean to look into. No one else. 

And now, staring into those depths, Dean made his choice, too.

"What’re you doing out here?" Sam asked softly, as if not wanting to disturb the quiet stillness of the morning.

"Thinking," Dean replied just as softly, his hands rising seemingly of their own volition to settle on Sam’s hips, just above his jeans.

Sam’s gaze flicked down to where Dean’s hands rested and Dean saw him swallow, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "About what?" his voice barely a whisper.

"About this," Dean breathed, reaching up with one hand to cup the back of Sam’s neck, urging him down.

Then his lips were on Sam’s, soft and gentle. And time seemed to stop. 

They hovered there, motionless, for a long moment, eyes closed, just barely kissing. Then Sam raised his head, wonder and confusion evident on his handsome features.

"Dean?" his voice wavered.

"It’s okay, Sammy," Dean reassured him. "I saw…I saw your dream. You and me, together."

Sam’s mouth opened and he started to take a step back, but Dean’s hands slid around his waist, preventing him, pulling him even closer.

"No, it’s okay," Dean repeated, then smiled at his brother. "I want this, too."

Then he leaned forward and kissed his brother’s chest, right above his heart.

A strangled sound tore its way out of Sam and his arms came up, one settling around Dean’s shoulders, the other cupping the back of Dean’s head, holding him against his chest.

"Tell me that _this_ isn’t a dream." Dean felt Sam’s voice rumble in his chest.

Dean raised his head, Sam’s hand coming around to settle on the side of his face. He locked eyes with Sam, looked deeply into them.

"It’s not a dream, Sam. This is as real as it gets."

Tears welled in the younger man’s eyes before they closed, his head tipping down to capture his older brother’s lips.

There was movement in the kiss this time, mouths pressing against each other again and again, tongues darting out to taste. Still gentle, but more insistent. Sam pulled Dean even closer, the older man now perched on the very edge of the trunk, Sam nestled firmly between his legs, their chests pressed together.

Hands started wandering, fingers ghosting up and down the bare flesh of each other’s backs and Dean moaned softly into the kiss. His hands slid down further, cupping his brother’s ass as he bucked his hips into his Sam’s groin.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath and Dean could feel his younger brother’s hardness against his own. His tongue swiped across Sam’s lower lip, asking, needing, demanding entrance.

And Sam eagerly complied, opening his mouth, sliding his tongue against Dean’s, both men moaning at that first touch, that first taste. They kissed deeply, panting into each other’s mouths, moving away slightly only to press back against each other’s lips over and over.

Dean’s hands rose up and tangled in Sam’s silky brown hair, the strands caressing his fingers. Sam’s hands had settled on Dean’s waist, pressing into the soft flesh, holding Dean as he pushed himself against the older man’s groin with short thrusts. One of Dean’s legs came up, wrapping around the backs of Sam’s thighs, urging him on.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean panted into the kiss, swallowing Sam’s drawn out exhale of his name.

Sam’s fingers were at Dean’s zipper when the sound of a car starting up nearby startled the men so badly that they sprang apart as if they’d been burned. Color flooded their faces as they suddenly realized what they’d been doing in a very public place.

Breathing hard, Dean slid off the trunk and moved toward Sam, who stood there with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, chest rising and falling as fast as Dean’s.

The older man cleared his throat, and with a gruff, "C’mon," he loosely grasped Sam’s wrist and led him back to their room.

The door had barely closed behind Dean and Sam was in his arms. This time the kiss was intense, demanding and Dean felt the universe expand and contract all at once. Expanded as he tried to process everything at the same time – the exquisite taste of his brother, the softness of his lips, the feel of Sam’s heart pounding against his chest, Sam’s unique scent and the sharp tang of arousal enveloping them both…and contracted until he felt they were the only two men in the world, bound together by something so strong, so _right_ , that it scared Dean.

The light touch of Sam’s fingers on Dean’s bare chest sent a bolt of white-hot desire racing through the older man. Dean’s hands rose to tangle in Sam’s shaggy hair as his mouth slanted over his brother’s. Sam’s lips opened wider as he pressed himself even tighter against Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. Sam’s heat was incredible, centered at his groin, where his rapidly swelling erection rested against Dean’s own hardness.

In moments their actions became frantic; desire, arousal and a need like Dean had never known taking control. The kiss was long and deep, both brothers trying to lose themselves in the other. Then Sam’s hands were sliding up Dean’s back, fingers skimming along Dean’s heated flesh. Dean groaned into the kiss at Sam’s caresses, his hands sliding down to cup his brother’s ass and pull him impossibly tighter against him. The movement caused Dean’s raging erection to slide along Sam’s and the younger man bucked against Dean, harder than he’d expected. Dean stumbled back, nearly sending them both to the floor, but his back hit the door instead, keeping them upright.

They broke the kiss for a moment, breaths coming in short pants. Dean reached up and ran his thumb across Sam’s bottom lip, red and slightly puffy, wet with saliva. Sam’s tongue flicked out, licking the pad of Dean’s thumb and the older Winchester groaned, pulling his younger brother’s mouth to him once again.

Dean leaned fully back against the door, spreading his legs, feeling Sam settle perfectly between them. They continued to slowly kiss, and Dean’s wandering fingers encountered one of Sam’s flat nipples. He brushed his thumb across it and Sam gave a little whimper into the kiss. Encouraged, Dean rolled the nub between his fingers and pinched it gently. Sam sharply moaned his pleasure, his cock jumping against Dean’s and his own answered in tandem, Sam’s soft cries driving Dean insane with need.

Then Sam began to pump his hips against Dean, picking up speed little by little. Dean couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, all he could do was _feel_. Feel the warm, masculine body in his arms, feel Sam’s tongue as it slid against his own, feel the hardened nipple beneath his fingertips, feel Sam’s erection sliding repeatedly against his own… And Dean wanted to feel more – feel Sam’s naked body beneath his, Sam’s cock in his mouth, Sam’s hands on his body…

Before Dean knew what was happening, Sam’s hand was between their bodies, unzipping Dean’s jeans, plunging his hand inside. He cupped Dean’s balls and gently squeezed, sending Dean somewhere in the vicinity of the stratosphere. With a cry, his legs gave out and it took them both to the floor, landing on their knees, legs spread wide.

Dean gasped out Sam’s name, clutching Sam’s shoulders, his head resting against the side of Sam’s neck as his brother continued to fondle his balls, rolling them in their sac.

"Oh god…Sam," Dean groaned.

He felt Sam’s other hand trying to push his jeans down off his hips, and as the material started to move, Dean raised his head and gently pushed Sam back, his hands slipping away from Dean’s body.

There was confusion in Sam’s eyes and Dean said, "No, Sam, wait…not like this...on the floor." He grasped Sam’s hand. "Come to bed with me."

Sam squeezed Dean’s hand, his voice a rough whisper. "I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, well, I’ve wanted to _say_ that for a long time."

They rose together, and in just a few steps they were standing next to the bed.

Dean watched as Sam looked over his shoulder, to the window, where the curtains were parted. Sam must have looked out the window first, trying to find Dean, before coming outside.

Dean saw his brother squint slightly, then the curtains pulled closed of their own accord. He turned his head back to Dean, a small smile on his lips.

Dean had to laugh. "Damn…that’s going to come in _very_ handy."

Sam ducked his head, and when he raised it, Dean saw Sam’s eyebrow quirk upwards.

"What?" he asked.

Sam smirked. "No underwear? That’s hot, Dean."

Dean felt his face turn pink. "That’s because that damn dream of yours made me come in my shorts."

This time both of Sam’s eyebrows rose. "Seriously?" He stepped closer, his fingertips reaching out to just barely brush against Dean’s erection. Dean jerked at the sensation and Sam leaned down, his lips next to Dean’s ear. "Which dream was it? I’ve had six years of them…"

Dean swallowed, licked his lips. "It was…you were…you had me in your mouth…" he finally got out, feeling himself swell even more at the memory of the dream.

Sam raised his head, a decidedly mischievous smile on his face. Then he stepped back and in the blink of an eye his jeans and boxers were sliding off his hips and down his legs. He kicked them away and before Dean could even get more than a glimpse of his brother’s naked body, Sam had dropped to his knees in front of him.

With one swift tug, Sam had Dean’s jeans down around his ankles, Dean’s fully erect cock bobbing out in front of him. Without a word of warning, Sam latched his hot, wet mouth on it and sucked hard.

"God, Sam!"

Dean suddenly felt completely disconnected from his body, as if he was back inside the dream. This could not possibly be happening. After so many years of repressing his longing for his brother, he couldn’t possibly be getting an earth-shattering blowjob from him. Yet he looked down and there he was, mouth on Dean’s cock, one hand pumping the shaft, the other working his balls again.

Dean let his eyes drift close and spread his legs, one of his hands coming to rest on Sam’s bare shoulder, the other cupped loosely around the back of his head.

"So good, Sam…so good…"

Dean’s hips started to move of their own accord, pumping slightly. Sam stilled the movement of his head, silently telling Dean to take the lead, which he did. He slowly fucked Sam’s mouth, taking care not to go too deeply. Sam’s mouth kept up the sucking motion while one hand moved to Dean’s hip. Dean felt Sam’s other hand leave his balls, one of his fingers dipping back behind them, pressing.

"Yeah, Sam," Dean encouraged, panting. "Touch me…"

His hips continued pumping and Dean desperately wished he could spread his legs wider, but his jeans wound around his ankles prevented any further movement. 

Dean opened his eyes and looked down, watching in erotic fascination as his cock slid in and out of his brother’s mouth, just as Sam’s questing finger found his puckered opening and pushed against it, his fingertip breaching him.

"Yes!" Dean cried out, his balls tightening, cock swelling. "I’m gonna come, Sam," he warned the younger man, "I’m gonna – yess!"

Dean’s orgasm ripped through him and he came in pulsing streams down Sam’s throat. His brother drank greedily, taking everything Dean had, until the older man’s legs could no longer support him and he sat down on the bed behind him.

Sam pulled Dean’s jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them to the side as Dean tried to get his breathing under control. Then Sam was between his legs, hands sliding up Dean’s thighs before resting them on Dean’s hips. He smiled at Dean with such tenderness that the older man felt tears prick the back of his eyes.

"My god, Sam…" Dean breathed, then crushed his brother to him, his mouth on Sam’s with bruising intensity.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, parting his lips eagerly. Dean tasted himself on Sam’s tongue, finding it incredibly erotic. Their tongues dueled for a few moments before Dean pulled away to run hot kisses down Sam’s neck to his shoulder. Dean nipped at his younger brother, wanting to mark him. Sam must have sensed his intention for he whispered fiercely, "Do it."

Dean moaned deep in his throat at Sam’s words before sucking hard on the flesh where shoulder meets neck, reveling in his younger brother’s groan. When he pulled back the area was red and slightly swollen. It would bruise by tomorrow.

"Yours," Sam declared before claiming Dean’s mouth for another mind-blowing kiss.

When their bodies demanded oxygen they broke apart and Dean pushed himself back onto the bed. He smiled seductively at his younger brother and Sam was stretched out beside him in an instant.

Dean rolled so that his body was half covering Sam’s, and let his fingers explore every part of his brother’s body, from his strong jaw to his toes, but purposely bypassing Sam’s straining erection. Sam closed his eyes as Dean’s hands roamed over his skin, making needy little noises in the back of his throat. When Dean let his mouth follow where his fingers had been, the noises became words.

"Please, Dean…more…"

Dean felt his cock begin to stir again at Sam’s pleading. He placed kisses on Sam’s face, neck and shoulders, stopping to lap at his nipples. Sam moaned and arched up, one hand trying to hold Dean’s head in place as he sucked on one of the little nubs.

"Yeah, Dean…like that…oohhh…"

As Dean continued lavishing attention on Sam’s nipple, he felt Sam’s hips start to move, his rock hard cock sliding, pushing into the groove of Dean’s hip. Dean reached down and gently squeezed Sam’s balls, returning the earlier favor.

"Dean!"

Sam pressed Dean’s head harder to his nipple, his hips bucking upward more frantically. Dean’s cock swelled in response, nearly fully erect once more. He sucked hard one more time on Sam’s sensitive nipple then released it, much to his brother’s dismay. 

He pushed his body downwards, his face now even with Sam’s groin. He inhaled deeply of his brother’s musk, the scent filling his nose. Sam’s cock was arching up from his belly, hard and aching. The tip was weeping, and Dean licked off the clear fluid, the taste of his younger brother exploding across his tongue. Sam’s hips jerked up and he cried out.

"Yes! Again, Dean…"

Dean gladly obliged, shifting so that his body was between Sam’s legs, as his brother pulled them up, bending at the knee, spreading them wide.

The older man opened his mouth and took Sam’s cock inside, hot and heavy against his tongue. Dean moaned around Sam’s length, sucking, moving his head up and down. He felt the thick vein running along the underside of Sam’s cock, then pressed the flat of his tongue against the head, before dipping the tip into the slit.

Sam was panting, his head moving against the pillow, back arching. Dean felt his brother’s hands on his head, trying to gain purchase in Dean’s short hair. When Dean once again took Sam’s balls in his hand, Sam groaned long and loud. Then he was pushing Dean away.

"Wait, wait…don’t wanna come yet," he gasped, "Wanna make it last…" and Dean released his cock with a wet _pop_. 

Sam rested his hand on the side of Dean’s face. "Make love to me, Dean," he whispered.

For just an instant, Dean stopped breathing. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "Maybe we’re taking this too fast…"

Sam laughed, smiling. "Fast? I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?"

Dean grinned. "You’ve got a point there."

"Good. Then come up here."

Dean went willingly, raising up and blanketing his brother’s long body, staying between Sam’s legs. He turned serious, asking Sam, "Have you…have you ever done this before?"

Sam looked away, toward the window. "Actually…I have."

Dean blinked, honestly surprised at his brother’s answer.

"But now I wish I hadn’t," Sam continued.

"Why?"

The younger man turned his head, looking directly at Dean. "Because I would’ve liked you to have been my first."

Dean’s breath hitched a little at his brother’s admission. "Jesus, Sam…"

Then he was kissing him, their passion flaring once again. Hard cocks rubbed against each other, hips moving in synch, clear fluid smearing into their stomachs, easing the way. Sam grasped Dean’s ass, humping harder against him. He lifted his hips, spreading his legs even wider.

Sam broke the kiss, panting. "Now, Dean… _please_ …"

"Yeah, yeah…" Dean mumbled, running his hand up and down Sam’s side. "Ah, christ…I don’t know where my lube is. I don’t know if I left it in my duffle or my shaving bag, or…" 

"Don’t worry," Sam told him, then looked over at the small counter outside the bathroom, where the coffee maker sat, and the basket of complementary little bottles of hotel soap and shampoo…and lotion.

Again, Dean watched as Sam squinted, then the small bottle of lotion rose up from the basket. It could’ve been just because Sam was excited, aroused, and in a hurry or he needed a little more practice with this – for the bottle didn’t land on the bed or in Sam’s hand, but instead smacked Dean in the forehead.

"Ow!" he yelped as the bottle bounced off his head.

Sam burst out laughing, his stomach bouncing, nearly toppling Dean off of him.

"Oh man, I’m sorry!" he apologized to Dean, as his brother rubbed at the spot on his forehead. "Here, let me see, you big baby," he told Dean, moving Dean’s hand out of the way.

He looked at Dean’s forehead, then his eyes turned smoky, his voice dropping an octave. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

Dean’s voice was husky when he answered. "Damn straight you should."

"Well okay, then." And Sam’s mouth was on Dean’s forehead, hot and wet.

Dean closed his eyes as his brother’s lips traveled downward, pressing kisses against his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, then back up, claiming Dean’s mouth.

The older Winchester finally broke away, long moments later, unable to continue the foreplay any longer as Sam arched against him again, his arousal at a fever pitch.

He pushed himself up and away from Sam’s body, telling him, "Turn over."

But Sam shook his head. "No. Wanna see you."

Dean smiled. "You will. I just want to get you ready."

Sam nodded and the young men quickly rearranged themselves – Sam on his stomach, legs spread wide, Dean lying on his side next to him.

Dean took a moment to kiss his way down Sam’s back, along his spine, his tongue darting out to lap at the fine sheen of sweat beginning to form on his brother’s body. He worked his way lower, past the dip in his lower back, Sam making small, needy sounds, his hips rocking against the mattress.

Lower still, to the swell of Sam’s ass, where Dean kissed and licked and nipped at both cheeks, before spreading them apart, revealing Sam’s most private place. Impulsively, Dean leaned down and licked a broad stripe with his tongue across the puckered muscle.

"Fuck!" Sam nearly flew off the bed at the sensation. "God, do it again, Dean…"

And Dean did, brushing his tongue repeatedly over Sam’s entrance, just barely breaching him with the tip of his tongue until Sam could stand no more.

"Ahh, god, stop!" Sam moaned. "I need you in me, _now_ ," he growled.

Dean raised his head, his hands fumbling for the bottle of lotion, his cock so hard it bordered on painful. Like his brother, he’d reached the end of his limit and needed to sink himself deeply inside Sam. Now.

He unscrewed the cap and coated his fingers with the lotion, then set the bottle on the nightstand. Leaning back over Sam, he let his fingers trail down the cleft of Sam’s ass, before circling his opening.

"Gonna make you feel good, Sammy," Dean breathed as he slid one finger inside his brother.

He moaned at the same time Sam did. Jesus, but he was so hot and _tight_. His brother may have been with a man, but it had obviously been a long time.

Dean continued to stroke his slick finger in and out, going a little deeper each time, loosening the muscle. The noises Sam was making went straight to his dick, making it throb. A second finger joined the first and Sam stiffened for a moment. Dean held his hand still until his brother relaxed, then continued stretching him, preparing him for Dean’s cock.

When Sam started to buck back against his fingers with pleas of, "Harder, more, faster," Dean knew he was ready. He slid his fingers out of Sam’s body, saying, "Turn over, Sammy."

The younger man did, giving Dean a clear view of how aroused he was. Sam was breathing heavy, his hair mussed, strands sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes were blown, nearly all pupil, a ring of hazel green barely showing. And his cock – curving up from his stomach, angry red and hard, the head coated in clear fluid.

He was sex personified.

Dean reached for the lotion again, and quickly coated his own straining cock. He moved between Sam’s legs as his brother bent them, spreading them wide, tilting up his hips. Dean guided his cock to Sam’s entrance, pressed the blunt head against the muscle. He locked eyes with Sam, waited until Sam nodded, then pushed.

Both men gasped as the head of Dean’s cock slipped inside Sam. The pressure was intense, Sam’s passage gripping his cock in tight, wet heat. His brother lifted his legs, wrapping them around Dean’s waist. The heel of one of his feet pressed into the small of Dean’s back, silently urging him on.

Dean pushed in slowly and steadily, letting Sam’s body adjust. By the time Dean was all the way in, both brothers were panting heavily.

"God, Sam…"

"You feel so good, Dean…"

Dean’s arms were trembling from the strain of holding back, of not moving. "Sam, I need to…"

"Yeah, yeah…do it…"

Dean tilted his hips back, sliding his cock until only the head remained inside Sam, then pushing forward again. He pumped into Sam over and over, the strokes longer and deeper and harder each time.

Sam was lost in a haze of want and need and desire beneath him. He met Dean thrust for thrust, tilting his hips and pressing into Dean’s back with his feet.

"Dean, Dean, Dean…" 

His name was a chant falling from his brother’s lips.

" _Harder_ , Dean…god, _more_ …"

Dean bent forward, his chest nearly touching Sam’s, feeling the younger man’s cock rub against his stomach. Bending had changed his angle of penetration and as he snapped his hips once more, he found that place deep inside his brother.

Sam cried out, clutching Dean’s upper arms. "Ahh, fuck! Do it...do it again!"

Dean rocked against him again, pressing deep, deep…

"Yes!" Sam yelled, throwing his head back against the pillow, arching his back. "God, Dean…" he practically sobbed. "Feels so good, feels so good…"

"I know, Sammy," Dean panted. "You’re so fucking tight… _god_ …" Dean thrust into Sam again, harder, wanting to be as far inside his brother as he possibly could. 

This first, frantic time was never meant to last. Dean could feel his orgasm coiling in the base of his spine, his balls tightening, lifting in their sac. But he held himself back. This was for Sam, always, always, everything for Sam.

He could feel his brother straining, trying to hold back his own climax, wanting to make it last as long as possible. Dean pushed down a bit with his chest and stomach, providing more friction for Sam’s hard cock as it slid through his own pre-come and Dean’s sweat.

"Let go, Sam, let go," he encouraged his brother in a low, husky tone.

Sam locked eyes with Dean and bit his lip, bucking up his hips erratically as Dean continued to thrust inside him.

"I…I…almost…oh, oh…Dean…"

"That’s it, Sammy, that’s it. Let me see you come, let me feel you…"

And with a strangled gasp and a sharp cry, Sam came. His cock pulsed between their bodies; thick, white ribbons of fluid splashing against their chests and stomachs, the sharp tang of sex flooding the air.

Sam’s whole body arched with the force of his orgasm, and Dean watched as unbridled ecstasy rolled through his brother and shone out through his beautiful eyes.

Sam’s legs tightened around Dean’s waist as his internal muscles clamped down around Dean’s cock…and Dean shattered. His thrusts faltered as he gave himself over to his orgasm, feeling it tear through him like a freight train.

He cried out Sam’s name as he felt his cock pulse so deep inside his brother, over and over and over, until he was drained. His arms gave out and he collapsed on top of Sam, his chest heaving, his head in the crook of Sam’s shoulder.

Sam’s arms came around him, holding him fiercely, his lips near Dean’s ear. His voice was thick, heavy with emotion as he whispered, "I love you, Dean. I love you."

Exhausted, Dean smiled softly against Sam’s skin, kissing him there before letting his eyes slide shut, allowing sleep to claim him, wrapped in his brother’s arms.

And not a single nightmare plagued him.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Dean stirred, hours later, to the sensation of Sam’s lips pressing kisses on the side of his neck. Dean sighed, leaning back into his brother’s warm body that was spooned around him under the blankets, their legs entwined.

He was more relaxed and content than he’d been in days. Hell, years. He felt Sam’s broad hand on his chest, covering his heart, fingertips moving gently against his skin.

"Mmmm…." Dean sighed, still clinging to sleep.

"Morning, sunshine," Sam whispered into his ear, smiling against the side of Dean’s face.

Dean rolled to face his brother, still wrapped in Sam’s arms, tilting his face to kiss him slowly, languidly. Their tongues slid lazily against each other’s for long minutes, both men content to just hold one another.

When they pulled apart, Sam’s eyes were bright, a smile gracing his face. Dean reached up and threaded a hand through Sam’s hair, then cupped the side of his face. He looked into those shining eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"I thought I was doing the right thing back then," he tried to explain, his voice thick with emotion. "When we were kids…"

Sam shook his head, turning to kiss Dean’s palm. "Dean…"

"You were too young," Dean continued. "I didn’t think you understood that this was wrong, that it could end up hurting you, hold you back from ever having a real relationship. And I didn’t want it to keep you from having a life away from hunting, like I knew you dreamed of, because of some twisted sense of loyalty to me. I just…didn’t think you knew what you wanted."

The words tumbled out of Dean, desperately needing his brother to understand why he pushed him away so many years ago. To forgive him.

Sam looked at him with such a tender, compassionate expression that Dean’s heart lurched in his chest. His brother leaned in close, lips brushing Dean’s ear.

"All I ever wanted was you."

Dean’s soft cry was muffled by Sam’s shoulder as the younger man pulled Dean to him. Dean’s arms wound around Sam’s back, clutching tightly, and his voice broke as he whispered, "I love you, Sammy."

They eased apart a few moments later and Sam brushed away a single tear that had managed to escape Dean’s hazel eyes.

"I know what you want me to say, Dean," Sam began. "But there is _nothing_ to forgive you for."

"Sam, I—"

"You took care of me my entire childhood. Looked out for me, protected me," Sam continued. "I know all you wanted was what was best for me. At the time I was so confused. I knew you felt something for me, too, but you kept pushing me away."

Dean tried to turn his head away, but a soft grip on his chin prevented him.

"I know now that you were right to do that, Dean. It just…wasn’t the right time for it, back then. I don’t think either of us was mature enough to deal with it. Especially me. And if we had started something…like you said, would I have stayed instead of going off to Stanford? I honestly can’t answer that. I’m not sure what I would’ve done."

Sam shook his head, bangs falling across his forehead. "But it doesn’t matter. We found our way back to each other. And it was worth the wait."

Dean smiled softly. "I’ve missed you, Sam."

"God, Dean, I’ve missed you, too."

They held each other close, trying to make up for lost time with touches and kisses, mapping each other’s bodies with mouths and hands. Sam’s fingers brushed over Dean’s temple and he pulled back slightly.

"How’s your head been feeling?"

Dean shrugged. "Better, I guess. There’s still this low-grade throb, like, behind my eyes. It’s not nearly as intense as it’s been these last couple of days, though."

With a sigh, Sam settled on his side next to Dean, who lay on his back. "What do you think that thing was? The sphere? What’s it’s purpose?" he asked the older hunter. "I don’t remember seeing any markings on the base, to give us a clue as to it’s origins."

Dean looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought for a moment. "Well, we’re dealing with necromancers, right? They’re all about cheating death. Maybe that thing’s purpose is to swap bodies. Trade yours in for a new one if you get sick or something. Put your consciousness into a healthy body and go on your merry way."

"But Dean, we didn’t swap bodies," Sam pointed out. 

Dean rolled onto his side to face his younger brother. "Yeah, I know, but the more I think about it, I’m sure that’s what it’s purpose is. I just don’t think it expected to encounter someone as…unique as you, Sammy."

"My abilities?"

Dean nodded. "It’s like it tried to switch us, but when it came up against what all was in your brain it couldn’t deal with it or something and the process stopped halfway through." Dean smirked. "I think you broke it, Psychic Wonder."

"Don’t even say that, Dean," Sam’s voice was deadly serious. "We’ve got to get back to it, figure out how to fix us." His words turned soft and worried. "I’m sorry for causing this whole mess. I never should’ve touched it to begin with. I hate what it’s doing to you, Dean."

"It’s not that bad—" Dean tried to deny.

"Yes, it _is_ ," Sam countered. "The visions are so much worse for you than me – the headaches, the bloody noses, Christ, Dean, you _passed out_."

"Sam, _stop_." Dean squeezed the young man’s shoulder. "I’m okay with this," he insisted.

His brother opened his mouth to protest but Dean cut him off. "Stop looking at this negatively."

"What? How can I not? What’s so positive about it?" Sam demanded.

A slow grin spread over Dean’s face. "Because without all this happening, we wouldn’t be where we are. Right here. Right now." He cupped his hand around the back of Sam’s neck. "Now shut up and c’mere."

And Sam did. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Title** : Stronger Now  
 **Author** : agt_spooky  
 **Pairing** : Sam/Dean  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers** : General season 1  
 **Warnings** : Wincest  
 **Word Count** : 20,155 (total story)  
 **Disclaimer** : I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!  
 **Summary** : Who or what is killing children in Kingsburg? Sam and Dean investigate the deaths and race to stop another from happening. Along the way, Dean shows how far he’ll go to protect his brother.  
  
Huge thanks to my best buddy, [ ](http://charityflint.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://charityflint.livejournal.com/)**charityflint** , for her incredible beta work on this. You're awesome, my friend!  
  
 **Author's Notes** : Story is complete and is being posted in three parts.   
  
  PART THREE

  
"Dude, you stink."

Dean felt Sam’s laugh rumble against his ear, where it lay pressed against his younger brother’s chest, beneath him.

"Yeah, well you’re no rose garden yourself," was Sam’s reply.

Dean lifted himself up, propped on an elbow and looked down at their tangled, naked bodies. The blanket was now on the floor, the sheet twisted and rumpled, damp in several places. The smell of sex, sweat, lust and desire hung heavy in the air.

Dean swatted Sam’s bare ass, smiling at the young man’s yelp. "C’mon, geek boy, time to shower."

Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist as the older man started to slide off the bed. He cocked his head to the side. "Together?" he asked with a smirk. "To, y’know, conserve water."

"Oh, is that what they’re calling it now?" Dean shook his head with a laugh. He stood and crooked his thumb at their duffle bags. "Find us some clean shorts and shirts then get your ass in the bathroom, you horny bastard."

Sam’s bark of laughter followed Dean into the bathroom, where he set about getting the shower going. He had no more than stepped into the tub and turned the water on when Sam appeared in the doorway with an armful of clothes.

Dean blinked. "Damn, that was fast."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him. "I was motivated."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I just bet you were. Now get in here."

Sam didn’t have to be asked twice, dropping the clothes on the closed lid of the toilet and joining his brother in the shower.

The older Winchester breathed deeply of the warm steam as his eyes closed, feeling Sam step up behind him and reach for the shower gel on the shelf. A moment later he smelled the clean scent of the gel and then Sam’s tall body was pressed up against his back. Leaving his eyes closed, Dean let his head fall back against Sam’s shoulder, as his younger brother’s arms came around his chest.

"Just relax," Sam told him as he began to rub his soapy hands across Dean’s stomach and chest.

Dean did as he was told, relaxing into the ministrations as his brother lovingly washed his upper body. Then Sam’s hands were slipping lower, past his naval, past his waist…

Dean pulled in a breath, his hands flexing against the sides of Sam’s thighs as his brother reached between his legs and took him in his hand. He let Sam stroke him to full hardness, pushing into his fist, slip-sliding through the soapy slickness, breathing in soft pants. He felt his brother’s answering hardness pressing into the cleft of his ass, Sam’s hips rocking against him.

Before Sam could bring him off he turned, finding Sam’s mouth. The older man backed them up slightly, bringing them under the spray as they kissed deeply. Hands roamed over wet bodies as the warm water sluiced over them. Dean broke away from the kiss and released Sam, turning away from his brother, placing both of his hands on the wall and opening his legs, his intention clear.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, his eyes dark with wanting, desire. 

"Do it, Sam, please…"

"God, Dean…" Sam replied hoarsely, moving up behind him, a hand on Dean’s hip. Then he bent forward and placed a kiss between Dean’s shoulder blades. His hard cock slid between Dean’s legs, pushing against his balls.

"C’mon, Sammy…" Dean’s voice was deep with need.

"Okay, okay," Sam murmured against Dean’s wet skin, as he reached around to stroke Dean once, twice, before shifting away slightly.

Dean heard the _snick_ of a bottle top being popped open, then one of Sam’s long fingers, slick and cool, was circling his opening, barely pressing against it, teasing him. He’d obviously found Dean’s lube in his duffle when getting his clothes out and brought it with him. Bright boy, his brother.

"You’re killing me here, Sammy," Dean ground out.

He heard a faint chuckle from his brother, then the pressure increased and Sam’s finger was sliding in, slow and deep.

"Fuck, yeah," Dean bit out, as his body opened up.

"Christ, Dean…you’re so tight." Sam continued stroking his finger in and out.

"Feels good…" Dean exhaled, then his breathing hitched as Sam added a second finger. "Mmm, yeah…harder…"

Sam complied, his fingers moving a bit faster, Dean feeling himself stretching, relaxing. Then Sam hit that spot deep inside and Dean’s body jerked.

"God, Sam, stop," he moaned, "Or I’m gonna come right now."

Sam withdrew his fingers then moved up behind his brother and guided his cock, also slick with lube, to Dean’s opening. He bent over and put his mouth close to Dean’s ear. "Ready?" he breathed. And with a small push, entered his brother.

Dean moaned low in his throat in pleasure as Sam slid his cock slowly but steadily all the way inside him. He felt his body stretching as his brother penetrated him, filled him. 

"Feels so fucking good, Sam," he growled as his younger brother began slowly pumping in and out of him, pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside Dean’s body, then pushing back in again. Dean spread his legs further and encouraged Sam to go harder, faster. 

Sam increased the speed of his strokes, his hands on Dean’s hips. He looked down to watch himself slide in and out of his brother. "Oh, god, Dean…I wish you could see this," he breathed. "See me pushing into you over and over…"

Dean released a hoarse groan at his brother’s words, and Sam let go of his hips, pressing his chest against Dean’s back. He held Dean to him with one hand on his chest, while the other reached down to grasp and stroke Dean’s erection. 

"More, Sam, harder, c’mon, c’mon," Dean’s words ran together as he bucked back onto Sam’s cock and then forward into his fist. His body was tensing, orgasm just beyond his reach.

Sam’s thrusts became uneven, his breathing harsh in Dean’s ear. "I’m gonna come, Dean… _ohhh, god_ …do it with me, come with me, c’mon, c’mon… _Dean_!"

At the first pulse of his brother’s cock deep inside him, filling him with slick, wet heat, Dean was lost. Gasping at the sensation, he jerked his hips backwards, trying to take his brother in even deeper as Sam came, then forward into Sam’s fist as Sam squeezed just a bit harder around his cock.

And that was all it took. With a sharp cry of Sam’s name, Dean’s orgasm was upon him, tearing through him like lightening. It raced up his spine as he felt his cock throb in Sam’s grasp, and then thick, white strands of fluid were coating the tile in front of him in pulsing waves. He threw his head back onto Sam’s shoulder, eyes closed, mouth open, and let the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body wash over him as his brother held him.

They continued to slowly rock together through the fine tremors and aftershocks of their climax, as the evidence of their release washed away in the warm water.

Sam held Dean for long moments as their breathing returned to normal before gently slipping out of his body. Dean moaned softly at the loss, then turned and sank into Sam’s arms, their foreheads resting together. 

"Damn, that was hot," Dean smirked.

Sam smiled back. "Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?" he agreed. "But if we don't get out of here soon, we'll both turn into prunes."

Dean chuckled and kissed Sam again. "You're right, let's get cleaned up and get some food."

The rest of their shower was a playful affair, as they "helped" each other soap up, hands sliding and rubbing over soap slicked bodies, then rinse off. They each grabbed a towel on their way out of the shower, patted themselves dry and slipped into their clean clothes.

Dean sat on his bed a short time later, tying up the laces on his boots. "I’m gonna run down to the Whistle Stop and bring us back something," he told Sam. "Think you can find out some more information about last night?" He paused, his voice quiet. "I’d…like to find out her name."

His brother nodded, his voice compassionate. "Sure, Dean. I’ll see what the online version of Kingsburg’s newspaper says."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Dean was back twenty minutes later, carrying two paper sacks stuffed with footlong chili dogs - the Whistle Stop’s specialty - french fries, two slices of apple pie and two soft drinks.

The brothers tore into the food, their recent…activities leaving them with quite an appetite.

Dean licked the last of the chili dog sauce off his fingers and finished his drink. He leaned back into the chair and looked over at Sam.

"Okay, what were you able to find out?"

"Well, the police still have no idea what’s going on," Sam started. "But that’s not surprising."

"What about the little girl?" Dean interrupted, impatient. "Did you find out her name?"

"Yeah. Yeah, her name was Lindsay McDonald. She was eight years old, from Lantz Ridge. That’s about 15 miles from here. Her parents reported her missing yesterday afternoon."

Dean looked down at the floor, jaw muscle jumping, and Sam continued. "I found something else, too."

The older Winchester turned his head. "What?"

"Another grave robbery. It was discovered just about dawn this morning in Grafton, about five miles away."

"Shit."

Dean stood and began gathering their trash, movements jerky, stuffing wax paper roughly into the bags, broadcasting his anger. He walked over to the trashcan, bending over slightly to toss the bags in when he felt a familiar twinge of pain. He felt wetness on his upper lip and a bright red drop of blood landed on the paper bags.

He straightened and spun around, eyes searching out his brother, knowing what was about to happen. He reached out a hand toward the younger man.

"Sa—" was all he was able to get out before the blinding pain tore through his skull.

Sam was quick this time, jumping up and knocking over the chair in his haste to get to Dean, catching him this time before he collapsed, easing him down to the floor.

The last thing Dean heard before the world went white was Sam saying, "Concentrate, Dean, you can do this. I’ve got you."

__

 

__

men in robes

__

the cabin

__

corpse on a table

__

candles 

__

chanting

__

bearded man   
  
blood

__

 

A minute later Dean again came back to himself with a gasp and a jerk, breathing heavily. But this time forced his eyes to remain open, refusing to give in to the residual pain. His mind recalling what he’d just seen, Dean’s voice was razor sharp as he looked up into Sam’s eyes.

"We got ‘em."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

The sun was beginning to set as the Winchesters double checked their weapons and supplies, stowing them in the trunk. Then gravel flew as Dean tore out of the motel parking lot, both brothers hell bent on ending this nightmare tonight.

Sam shifted in the passenger seat to look over at Dean. "So what do you think? Are these guys succeeding, raising the dead, creating zombies, which is why they keep killing? Or do you think they haven’t been able to yet, which is why they keep killing? Trying to get it right."

Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road. "Good question. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing – I’d rather not have to face zombies _and_ these guys."

Sam looked out the windshield. "You and me, both."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

The Impala was once again parked at the end of the dead end dirt road. Sam slung the backpack up onto his shoulders, then accepted the sawed off shotgun loaded with rock salt from Dean. The older Winchester tucked his chrome .45 in his waistband, grabbed his own shotgun and slammed the trunk shut.

"Let’s go."

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

They approached the cabin silently just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. At the edge of the tree line the brothers could see a crude wooden table set up outside, a short distance in front of the cabin. On the table lay a body of a middle-aged man. The latest grave robbing victim.

There was movement inside the cabin, flickering candlelight, shadows passing back and forth in front of the windows.

Dean looked sharply at Sam. "Show time."

They crouched low, cautiously creeping up to the door of the cabin. They could hear low voices now, chanting. Sam raised his head just above the window sill, looked inside. Turning his head back toward Dean, he held up five fingers, and Dean nodded in response.

Heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his system, Dean took a deep breath and stood up, shotgun pointed out in front of him. Another glance at Sam, now standing, too, and his brother gave the go-ahead nod.

Dean raised his leg quickly and kicked, his boot crashing into the old wooden door, nearly ripping it from its hinges as it swung in.

Surprise is what the hunters were counting on, and it worked. They burst inside the cabin, startling the five men in robes, standing in a circle. The men turned toward them and Sam and Dean struck.

The shotgun blasts were deafening in the close quarters of the small cabin as each of the brothers took aim at a man closest to them and fired. The rock salt impacted into their chests, throwing them against the walls, crashing into the tables. They slid to the floor and lay still, stunned or unconscious. One of them was the bearded man both Sam and Dean had seen in their visions.

The remaining three men quickly recovered from their surprise and attacked the brothers. Sam made quick work of his opponent, bringing up his shotgun and slamming the butt of it into the man’s face. He went down hard, knocked out, a spray of blood from his broken nose covering his face.

Sam spun around and saw Dean grappling with the other two men. His shotgun was on the floor and he was pummeling one man with his fists. He didn’t see the second man come up behind him, arm making to wrap around Dean’s neck and choke him.

"NO!" Sam yelled out, and suddenly the man behind Dean was lifted up off his feet by an invisible force and thrown across the cabin, his head impacting with the far wall. His body fell limply to the floor and he did not move.

Sam’s yell was the distraction Dean needed. The man he was fighting with turned his head, and Dean delivered a vicious uppercut to the man’s jaw. His head snapped back and he fell bonelessly to the floor, eyes closed.

Breathing hard, Dean turned to face Sam, a smile on his face. "Nice job, little bro—" His eyes suddenly went wide and his hand was at his waistband, pulling his .45 and bringing it up, moving so fast it was a blur. "Sam!" he cried in warning as the bearded man rose up from the floor, a knife appearing in his hand from under his robe.

As the man brought the knife down toward his brother, Dean didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession.

The man’s body jerked as the bullets slammed into his chest, a spray of blood misting the air as he fell backwards, his dead eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Sam’s mouth was open, breaths coming fast as he stared at the dead man at his feet. Dean was at his side in an instant, a hand gripping his arm.

"Sam, you okay?"

The younger man tore his eyes away from the body. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay," he answered, voice shaky. He swallowed. "Thanks."

Dean just squeezed his arm and gave him a small smile in response. Then he stepped back and viewed the destruction of the room.

"We gotta get these guys tied up, call the police and disappear."

Sam blew out a steadying breath and slid the backpack from his shoulders. He produced a length of rope which they cut into sections and then set about tying up the unconscious men.

Finished, Dean crouched down next to the dead man, his eyes like steel. "Rot in hell, you bastard," he spat, words like daggers.

He stood and found Sam watching him intently. He had found the glass sphere amongst the mess and had it sitting on it’s base on the altar at the back of the cabin.

"C’mon, Dean. Let’s fix this," he told him in a hard, determined voice.

Dean squared his shoulders and walked to stand next to the altar. He looked down at the sphere, then up at Sam, then back down to the sphere. He reached out as if to touch it, but suddenly his hand shot out sideways, connecting solidly with Sam’s chest and he pushed.

Caught off guard, Sam stumbled backwards, a shocked expression on his face. But before he could even speak, Dean grabbed the sphere, raised it above his head and hurled it to the floor with as much force as he could.

The glass ball shattered into a thousand pieces.

Without a backward glance at his brother, Dean strode quickly out of the cabin and into the night.

He didn’t get far, though. Sam thundered out the door, grabbing Dean’s arm and forcefully spinning him around. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother so furious.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?!" Sam screamed. "Are you out of your fucking mind??" He shook Dean with each sentence, fingers gripping tighter into Dean’s arm. "That was our only chance to fix this! Why did you do that?!"

Dean twisted, tearing his arm from Sam’s grasp. "Because I don’t WANT to fix it!"

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Are you crazy?! You can’t want this!"

"I _do_ , Sam," Dean insisted forcefully. "Just stop and listen to me!" he yelled, when Sam made to interrupt him.

"It’s too much for you, Sam. The toll all of this has taken on you. It’s too much," Dean shook his head. "You said it yourself – I’ve always protected you. I’ve always _wanted_ to. But the nightmares, the visions, the telekinesis – I can’t protect you from them." He swallowed. "It tears me up to see the pain they cause you. I’ve always felt so damn helpless. There was _nothing_ I could do for you." He looked Sam straight in the eye. "Until now. Until this happened. This was my opportunity, and I took it."

"Dean, no…"

"Yes, Sam! Your mind is clearer now, you said it yourself. Now that the nightmares and visions are gone, you’ll be able to really concentrate on the telekinesis, hone it, use it to your, _our_ , advantage." Dean flung his arm out toward the cabin. "Look what you did in there! That guy would’ve choked me to death!" His voice softened. "But he didn’t, because of what you can do now."

Sam wasn’t mollified. "But what about _you_? All you’ve gained is pain, Dean!"

Dean shook his head. "The nightmares will fade, Sam, I’m sure of it. And the visions…I need to work with them, like you’ll do with your power. Make them work for me, get better control." He flung his arms out wide. "Don’t you see? We’re stronger now! More than ever before."

He stepped close to Sam, rested a hand on his younger brother’s hip, his voice low, rough. "And when we find The Demon he’ll have to take _both_ of us on now, not single you out." Dean’s smile was wicked. "And it won’t stand a chance."

Sam’s face reflected the emotional turmoil raging inside him. He swallowed several times, eyes suddenly shimmering. He slid his hands up Dean’s arms, held on, and Dean could feel the tremble in Sam’s hands.

"That you’d do this…for me…Dean…I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," Dean replied, then gave a cocky smile. "Well, you can say you’re glad there weren’t any zombies."

Sam’s laugh was loud and bright before he leaned down and captured Dean’s mouth with his own.

**THE END**


End file.
